


Kiss a Stranger

by vinyl_octopus



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 17:42:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1356160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinyl_octopus/pseuds/vinyl_octopus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From this entry on the prompt post:<br/>Martin is offered £20 to kiss a stranger on video as part of a social experiment. After getting past his pride, he accepts. The problem is, the person they pair him with for kissing isn't a stranger at all.</p><p>No pre-established pairings, please, but if a relationship develops from the incident that would be marvelous.<br/>Based from this: <a href="http://www.vice.com/shorties/we-got-twenty-british-strangers-who-arent-models-to-kiss-each-other">http://www.vice.com/shorties/we-got-twenty-british-strangers-who-arent-models-to-kiss-each-other</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss a Stranger

" _Think of the money think of the money think of the money_." Martin stood in the staging area, trying to ignore the friendly girl behind the camera and the bloke with the clipboard who seemed to be both researcher and director. He concentrated on the dusty floorboards and when those gave him no answers, he gazed at the artfully draped sheets pinned haphazardly along the wall as a neutral backdrop. 

The solid clunk of the door opening on the other side of the warehouse heralded the arrival of his "partner" for this session, accompanied by the teenaged "runner" who was helping out. 

He blinked hard, but the view in the doorway didn’t change. 

"No." 

He was proud of how strong his voice sounded, given the fact that all his blood and vague remnants of courage and self-esteem had flooded to his feet, leaving a queasy wash in his guts. 

Douglas raised a sardonic brow as their eyes met across the room. 

Martin turned frantically to the pair running the experiment. "You said it would be a-a-a _stranger_. Isn't... I thought that was the whole _point_?" 

Utter confusion creased the face of the girl, but the boy just checked the pages on his clipboard against the runner’s copy and swore. "I'm sorry. You're the last couple today. Had a mix-up earlier and shifted some around...Uh. How well do you two…?" 

“We’re colleagues.” Douglas strolled over to the small group. 

Martin willed himself not to break out into a stress-induced sweat. 

"You don't have to do this," the girl reassured them. 

"But we couldn't pay you if you leave," the boy was quick to add. 

"I have no objection," Douglas said. 

"Oh, God," said Martin, wringing his hands. He couldn't really afford to let £20 just disappear. “All right, then.” He swallowed hard. 

They shuffled a little as the girl double checked the angle was still okay. Then silence descended on the room. 

Muffled silence. 

Actually, all Martin could hear was the boom of his heart thumping his ribs. 

The only sign of nervousness Douglas released was a too-casual hand through his hair. But eventually they really had to do something. 

Martin looked up, all of a dither. Unsure where to put his hand. Wondering if a quick peck on the lips would be enough to fulfil the contract. 

"Martin." Douglas’s tone was low and languorous, intended to relax and seduce. It resulted in speeding Martin’s heart rate and, from the heat in his cheeks, redirecting all the blood in his body back to his face. But even as he tensed and made to step away, to call it all off, Douglas leaned forward, wrapping him gently in his arms and pushing a soft kiss against his lips. Martin was so surprised he forgot to respond – or to move away. 

Douglas’s lips were cooler than he expected, but soft. His touch was delicate. Douglas continued kissing him. Lightly. Coaxing. Until Martin gave in, released the statue-straight tension in his spine… and kissed back. 

It was wonderful. 

It was everything he had ever imagined and more. 

It was terrible. 

Douglas kissed like he meant it. With passion and without reserve, and before he knew it Martin had his own arms wound around Douglas and his hands clenched in the back of his shirt. They snogged for five minutes. Ten. 

And then Martin pulled away with a quiet sob, whirling to face the wall. Trying to compose himself. 

Douglas gave him a moment of privacy, distracting the camera woman and the director with some quip that Martin missed but had the room in fits of relaxed laughter. 

"All done!" the girl chirped. 

The director handed them an envelope each, politely ignoring Martin’s undoubtedly ruined expression. "We can let you know when the video is live—" 

" _NO!_ That is no, thank you. I don't think I could... I don't think I'll be watching. Thank you, though. See you, Douglas." Martin grabbed his bag and jacket from where he’d left them on a chair at the side of the room and bolted out the door before Douglas could respond. 

 

“Had a few of those today,” said the girl, busy dismantling the tripod. She looked up. “I'd go after him if I were you.” 

Douglas nodded. “Thank you. And...I _will_ want to see the video, so please do forward on the details.” He strode to the door, pausing only to deposit his £20 earnings and a thanks to the runner, before chasing Martin up the street so he could talk him _out_ of his meltdown and, hopefully, _into_ a dinner invitation.


End file.
